Dresser in the Attic
by Jhomeboy
Summary: Calvin, preparing for college, stumbled across the stuffed tiger that is Hobbes. Calvin must face Hobbes after leaving him for several years. Mm-mmm gooood!


Another caffeine-fueled fanficcie by the one, the only…Jared Devitt! (aka Jhomeboy) Anyhoo, this little story is another look into the realm of hypothetical questions of the Calvin and Hobbes world. What if…ah, screw it. Just read the darn thing and find out. Please, R&R immediately if you liked my other story, "Susie: A Short Story."

Oh right, the disclaimer. Well, you know it. I don't own SQUAT! I don't own this computer, I don't own the money that I bathe in everyday, and I certainly don't own this well deserved title…well maybe I do, but the rest I don't. Why'll the Repo men carry this computer away, I'll have to write quickly. Enjoy!

Calvin blew thick into the dust. The wave of dust rose into the air and swirled in the dim light that shafted through the shutters of the attic. Calvin sneezed in the maelstrom and wiped a finger over the old dresser. The dust collected thickly on his finger. Between his fingertips, Calvin agreed mentally that the dust felt a lot like rotted silk. 

__

But then, how would I know that? 

He didn't. It was just a premonition he would have to trust as he worked the lock of the dresser. It was years old, and hadn't been opened since he was a kid. Calvin pushed with all of his might, and grunted a swear as the lock would not budge. In a fit of rage, he took the hammer he had with him and slammed it down onto the lock hard. The tarnished brass dented and deep inside something clicked. Calvin stopped breathing as something inside clunked and fell to the bottom of the dresser. After that, the lock worked fine.

As Calvin rummaged through the things, he recollected on the past events. How had _he _been admitted into a fairly well college. Albeit he was brilliant, a genius even in silent terms, his grades in no way reflected it. And of course, it was all about GRADES. You could debunk frickin` _Einstein,_ but if you got less than a 3.75 average your no good. Still Calvin, was able to get a into a good college a few states over. Notre Dame wasn't bad at all. Not bad by half. 

Susie was going over to Stanford, of course. Calvin had congratulated her as she shrieked her excited news on his doorstep not three months before. Her parents had held a party, which he had attended. It hadn't been too bad, for Susie.

He wouldn't see her till Thanksgiving, a shame. But still, he was going to college, and that was okay. His parents were letting him take their new computer, which was shocking to him. His dad hadn't wanted it in the first place, and only got it for Calvin cause it had a CD-ROM/CD-RW/DVD combo and all that other acronym stuff that his dad didn't understand. He wouldn't use it if Calvin was away, so he gave it to his only son. Calvin, of course, would have to rely on Snail-mail for the year, for the old computer wasn't hooked to the Internet, so no e-mail. 

Calvin pulled out what he wanted: his graduation outfit. They had put it away after graduation. Calvin wanted to take it as a memento. Calvin smiled gingerly at his blue silk robe (which hadn't felt rotted, like the dust). Calvin sighed, folded it up, and settled it on the dusty ground

…when his eye caught something in the bottom of the dresser. It was a faded orange, like a Florida fruit left in the trash for too long.

Calvin scooped the orange object out of the dresser. It was small, soft, and the faded orange was prickly, yet furry, although some of the fur was falling out. 

"Hobbes." whispered Calvin. He would later note that it was weird, and he didn't feel it before, but instantly he felt hot tears brimming on his eyes. Only one descended down his cheek, but it was enough.

He stared into the scratched, black beads that had once been the eyes of a ferocious tiger that had pounced on him many times, yet would always cuddle under his rib cage in front of the fire on a cold winter's eve, would always let him down first from the tree house, would always protect him from harm.

Calvin hugged Hobbes close. He hadn't known how it had happened. One day, Hobbes entirely real too him, the next…Dad was packing him under old Halloween costumes. "Oh, Hobbes…I'm sorry…" he whispered, as if he expected an answer.

…which was just what he received.

"Oh, don't be sad, Calvin." 

Calvin looked up. Hobbes was standing in the shafting light, his shiny coat as fresh as the last time he had seen him. His whiskers long and straight, his tail rich and thick, he hadn't seemed to age at all. 

"Hobbes…?" uttered Calvin. He could feel hot tears coming, and he didn't want too look this silly in front of Hobbes. 

"Yeah, sure. I'll admit that it was a stuffy couple of years, but I spent the whole time thinking of you. I'll never forget the times we spent in the woods, or spying on Susie, or just raising hell over the house."

Calvin stood up, a head taller than Hobbes, the tables now turned. "But those times should have been treasured forever, and I just let them go like dust in the wind. I let them rot like silk in a dresser for years." 

Hobbes laughed that tiger laugh that Calvin had never heard before. "It'll be okay. You never forgot them. You're remembering them now." 

It was true. In his mind's eye, he could see him and Hobbes behind a tree, except he had turned twelve years younger. Susie was splattered and the blue corpse of a water balloon hung in her hair. Then he saw the wagon, nearly falling apart as it roared down the path in the woods. One wrong turn and he and Hobbes would be splattered across the trunk of a tree.

"It'll be okay. You'll be back by Thanksgiving, and I'll still be here. You could take me down to Notre Dame with you, but it wouldn't be the same, would it? We wouldn't be in the woods, or we wouldn't be singing the G.R.O.S.S. anthem, would we. It would be better if I just saw you in November, wouldn't it?" 

Calvin nodded in agreement. "Yes, I guess. I'll…I'll have to wait till November before we can talk again…Hobbes?" 

Hobbes listened up. There was no scorn in his voice at all, nor contempt, nor bitter hatred. He took the years in the trunk in swing like it was just an elongate nap.

"Yes?"

Calvin paused a moment, and almost didn't say anything. Finally, he was able to say it, but couldn't above a whisper. 

"I-I'm sorry." Calvin's head hang low with shame. He had let his best friend, and now awaited his forgiveness. When no answer came, Calvin opened his eyes and looked up.

Hobbes was gone. All that was left was the mange-ridden stuffed tiger with half of his faded orange fur missing and half of the whiskers long gone. Calvin uttered a sob-gasp, then crouched down to pick up the tiger. The black beads for eyes were still scratched and banged up. Calvin sighed and bent to put him back into the dresser. 

Calvin would swear that just before he closed the drawer, he saw the faintest gleam of intelligence in those beady eyes. 


End file.
